


Don't Want for the Sun

by victoriousscarf



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1948, Alternate Universe - Historical, Berlin - Freeform, Historical Hetalia, Human AU, I found the prompt started writing and forgot, Kink Meme, M/M, Not Incest, Politics, Post-World War II, except i sorta didn't post it to the kink meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-30 17:44:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Ludwig had ever told anyone how he thought he would meet the person he would fall in love with—which though he thought about it often enough he would have walked off a cliff before telling anyone his fantasies—it certainly would not have been like this.</p><p>Their meeting would have been over coffee, or somewhere with candlelight, or on the beach, waves gently crashing behind them and with a silly straw hat blowing away in the wind involved. It would not have been a collision in a back alley, the other man suddenly in his arms when they both turned the same corner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who are You Running From?

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this prompt](http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/20236.html?thread=76301836#t76301836) from the hetalia kink meme:
> 
> _Politician!Ludwig meets Political rebel!Gilbert and they develop a mutual love for each other. They don’t realize each other’s different political standpoint before it’s too late – they don’t want to step out of the relationship – even if their friends (also politicians and political rebels) find out and try to break them up._
> 
> _Bonuses:_  
>  -It takes place after WWII in Germany.  
> \- References to real politic.  
> \- Ludwig tops
> 
>  
> 
> Of course keeping in mind that as soon as I started researching politics in post-war Germany I remembered how much I fail at political history so we shall certainly see how much I can adhere to bonus 2. I put not incest in the tags not because I don't write incest (ha) but because due to the prompt it would be difficult and I wanted to be upfront.

If Ludwig had ever told anyone how he thought he would meet the person he would fall in love with—which though he thought about it often enough he would have walked off a cliff before telling anyone his fantasies—it certainly would not have been like this.

Their meeting would have been over coffee, or somewhere with candlelight, or on the beach, waves gently crashing behind them and with a silly straw hat blowing away in the wind involved. It would not have been a collision in a back alley, the other man suddenly in his arms when they both turned the same corner.

Ludwig’s back hit the wall and he gasped for breath, looking down at what hit him to see a head of white—pale blond?—hair, that titled back to reveal red eyes and a wide, breathless grin and Ludwig felt his stomach turn over in pained shock. He couldn’t breath as the man pushed back, brushing Ludwig’s shoulder’s off.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “Look where you’re going yeah?” Before Ludwig could breathe again the man was running along his original path.

“Wait!” Ludwig managed just as he reached the main road. When he turned back, Ludwig’s mind blanked. “Who are you running from anyway?”

Instead of replying, the man threw his head back and laughed, the sound a hissing chuckle before he was gone and Ludwig felt like the world had moved under his feet and he had not been ready for it.

Even though he had no idea who the man was, or where he might be, Ludwig found himself watching for flashes of pale hair on his way to work, when he went to bars, or on his walks home that started ranging further and further away from his established route. Which, he told himself one night as he walked through a shopping district was mad. He knew nothing about the man with white hair and red eyes except that he had been running from something—or too something—and that he had a laugh that should grate on anyone’s nerves.

Hands shoved deep in his pockets, Ludwig dragged his eyes up from the sidewalk as the entire point of taking this route was to watch for the mysterious stranger. When he was ready to turn his feet toward home he saw a flash of white hair out of the corner of one eye and instantly turned toward the bar he thought the white hair in question had gone into. Ducking inside, he looked around, and smiled to see a head of white hair on a wiry frame, motions exaggerated and angry as he spoke to a slender and dark haired man, who smiled in the face of the other’s angry, head tilted to one side.

Sliding against the bar, wondering if he’d lost his mind, Ludwig watched until the second man laughed, the sound cheery and waved before leaving. The man he’d been watching swore and stalked up to the bar and Ludwig’s throat jumped when he leaned against the bar next to the blond.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Ludwig asked when his voice came back and red eyes flashed over to him in suspicion. Shoulders that had been mostly relaxed tightened and Ludwig swallowed again, realizing any idle fantasies he entertained had never gotten him this far.

“Do I know you?” the other man demanded, voice rough and grating.

“Well, no, not especially,” he managed and the wariness only increased. “I mean, you never did tell me who you were running from—or who you are for that matter.”

There was another moment of wariness before the other man recognized him and laughed, the same sibilant sound. “Ah, you. I remember now.” He paused a beat, still leaning against the bar. “Wait, you haven’t been following me, have you?”

“No,” Ludwig said, and for once he lied well. “But since we both ended up here, I’d like to buy you a drink.”

The other hesitated before laughing and nodding. “Sure. I can’t turn down a drink. I’m Gilbert then, if you’re after that.”

Ludwig decided not to comment on only being given one name, following the other’s example. “Ludwig,” he introduced himself as he ordered the drinks.

“You’re not gonna want to talk politics are you?” Gilbert asked and Ludwig paused, surprised.

“Not a fan of them?” he asked and got a shrug.

“Just seems like a lot of people want to talk about them,” Gilbert said. “Even over drinks. Could use a break, you know?”

“Then no,” Ludwig said. “I have no interest in talking politics.” The thought was refreshing after hours spent in the office, helping the older politicians and discussing the finest points of legal and political matters. He almost missed the days of law school.

“Thank god,” Gilbert drawled, letting his head fall backward and Ludwig handed him one of the drinks.

“You look tense,” Ludwig commented. “Though, I suppose that could be normal.”

“It’s normal,” Gilbert said, easily enough, rising the beer in a half hearted toast. Ludwig could not stop watching him, through the next several beers that he gladly paid for to keep the smaller man talking, waving his hands around like it was common for him to convince others of what he wanted.

When the bar was stilling and they both realized they had somewhere to be in the morning, they rose unsteadily together and made it to the door mostly on their own feet. “Do you—will you come back here?” Ludwig asked and Gilbert stumbled.

“What? Why?”                           

“Because, I’d like to see you again,” Ludwig said and Gilbert’s eyes narrowed as they watched him. “I… I enjoyed tonight,” Ludwig stumbled over his words. “I do not make friends easily.” He worried that if he let the other go now, he would never find him in all of Berlin again.

“Really?” Gilbert asked, tilting his chin back. “Because buying a person a drink is a good place to start.”

The corners of Ludwig’s mouth twitched up. “I enjoyed—not talking politics with you.”

Gilbert laughed, the same hissing sound and patted Ludwig awkwardly on the shoulder. “Alright. Say, I wouldn’t mind meeting here again.”

His stomach turning over, Ludwig smiled. “Thank you,” he murmured and Gilbert frowned up at him, like he was still considering something before they made brief arrangements and even shorter goodnights before parting on the streets of Berlin.

-0-

Slamming into his apartment, Gilbert managed to reach the couch before falling face first into it, gaining the immediate and complete attention of his flatmate.

“You went out drinking without me,” Ivan said from where he was braced against the door to the kitchen. The thin wall looked like it was going to topple under his weight.

Gilbert groaned from where his face was smashed into the cushions. “Yeah, yeah I did.”

“I thought you were meeting with Antonio, not drinking,” Ivan said and Gilbert propped his head up.

“I was,” he said. “But when a stranger offers to buy you a drink—“ Ivan’s brows show way up. “—you don’t just turn that down as you should well know. Besides, the meeting with Antonio was a bust anyway.”

“We should go out drinking together again,” Ivan chirped and Gilbert groaned.

“No, I still remember the last time too clearly. There’s a statue of limitations on this, remember? Give it a couple more weeks and I’ll be able to look back on the last time with a sense of nostalgia and convince myself it wasn’t really that bad and we can do it again.”

Ivan laughed from the doorway as Gilbert continued muttering something about vodka and bar fights. “I look forward to it then.”

“Why are we flatmates again?” Gilbert asked, flopping forward to lie face down on the couch again.

“You usually say something about finding me sprawled out on your doorstep like a massive drunken kitten and you were lured in by the adorable image that made before you realized the harsh reality and that you have far too big of a heart,” Ivan said and Gilbert’s head snapped up in surprise. “But you usually only start saying that when you’ve had several drinks of vodka already.”

“How do you remember stuff like that when we’re that drunk and I’m the one who says it?”Gilbert groaned.

“Ah, because you are a lightweight,” Ivan grinned and Gilbert muttered that this was why beer was better. When he seemed disinclined to move again, Ivan draped a blanket over him. “Your back will hate you in the morning,” he warned and Gilbert made an incoherent sound so Ivan left him there.

-0-

Several weeks later, Ludwig watched Gilbert as he scribbled down notes as they walked, a breeze stirring the streets. No matter what the weather, Gilbert refused to wear a hat and it made his white hair stand out against his black coat and the blue scarf he sometimes wore tucked around his neck.

“What are you writing?” Ludwig asked and Gilbert instantly shoved the notebook into the coat’s inner pocket.

“Just a thought I wanted to finish,” Gilbert shrugged. They had met several times at bars and were now spending an afternoon together as the weather turned for the warmer. Ludwig had paid for lunch which had earned a sideways look from Gilbert but no complaints and they were passing by window shops for a while, talking aimlessly.

“I was wondering if you would like to go on a picnic one day,” Ludwig said, a fantasy he had been entertaining for a while slipping out before he could stop it.

“What?” Gilbert looked over at him.

“I mean,” Ludwig flushed. “The weather’s getting nicer, and the sun’s coming out and I thought it might be nice to get out of the city a bit.” When Gilbert continued to look at him he hunched his shoulders and looked down. “Only if you want to of course.”

“A picnic,” Gilbert repeated, marveling at the notion. “Alright, if you think so. Where?”

“I thought we could take the S-Bahn down to Potsdamn,” Ludwig said, brightening at the fact his idea had been accepted and then stopping at the expression on Gilbert’s face. “I—I always liked the gardens at Sans Souci and I thought…” he trailed off finally.

“Sans Souci?” Gilbert repeated.

“Is that a problem?” Ludwig asked, heart in his throat as it always was when he worried he’d missteped around the other.

“It’s an odd choice is all,” Gilbert shrugged and closed his mouth.

“We could go somewhere else,” Ludwig offered. “If… if you were still wiling.”

“No, that’ll be fine,” Gilbert said, shaking his head. “It’ll be fine. I just haven’t been there since the war.” He stopped on a street corner and looked at Ludwig. “This next weekend, then?”

Ludwig blinked and nodded. “Yes,” he agreed. They established a time and place to meet and Ludwig watched Gilbert walk down the street, confused and wondering why Gilbert managed to surprise him every single time.

-0-

Ludwig stopped sleeping well at night, dreaming about a laugh that grated along his ears and yet warmed him and pale skin and red eyes that mocked him without even having to laugh. He often woke up and stumbled through his morning routine, considering his face in the mirror as he smoothed his hair back.

He almost missed one important meeting and had sent the wrong pamphlet to the printers before he realized his mistake and ran after the courier to switch the copy quickly.

By the time he was supposed to meet Gilbert again, he was more certain than ever he had no idea what to do.

That feeling only got worse when he actually saw Gilbert waiting for him, flowers in one gloved hand, a hat on his head for the first time, and sunglasses perched on his nose. “What?” Ludwig managed.

“You thought this skin was just for decoration?” Gilbert laughed and Ludwig realized the coat he wore was thinner than normal and the gloves hardly retained any warmth. “You promised sun after all and unless you want my skin to be as red as my eyes—”

Ludwig flushed to realize his mistake. “You could have just said,” he started and Gilbert laughed him off, waving one hand.

“I agreed, didn’t I?”

“Alright,” Ludwig said. “Then… what are the flowers for?”

“Well, we’re going to Sans Souci,” Gilbert shrugged and remained silent about it on the journey there. Ludwig didn’t press, instead discussing the latest news and pointing to things of passing interest outside the window.

When they arrived, Ludwig looked around and focused back on Gilbert, realizing it was even harder to read his mood with the hat and dark glasses. “Why don’t you usually wear glasses?” he asked as Gilbert turned his head around to survey the grounds.

“I should,” Gilbert admitted. “I do when I have to read but I really hate them.”

“It would be better for you, wouldn’t it?” Ludwig asked and he could feel the weight of Gilbert’s gaze even through the dark lenses.

“What are you, my mother?” Gilbert asked and strode off, Ludwig following him. They walked around the gardens for a while until they came to a point where Gilbert stopped and put the flowers down in a corner, out of the way of any passerby. When he straightened, he glanced over at Ludwig, who had his head tilted to one side with a frown.

“When I was growing up,” Gilbert started and stalled before continuing. “There was a man who raised me when my parents weren’t paying attention. He loved it here and we would visit when we could. The guy loved Frederick and all, he was even named after him, though I’m not sure that had anything to do with it but it made him damn proud.” Gilbert laughed, and it was quieter as he shook his head. “I don’t know why, but we’d sit here and he’d try to impress history on me.”

Ludwig swallowed. “Did it ever work?”

“No,” Gilbert laughed, folding his arms over his chest. “Come on now, you promised me a picnic.”

For the moment, Ludwig was content to allow him to change the subject as they walked a bit further before settling down with the food Ludwig brought. They sat in a particularly sunny spot and Gilbert sprawled out on his back when the food was gone.

“That man—” Ludwig started.

“Old Man Fritz,” Gilbert corrected promptly, certain he knew who Ludwig was referring to.

Nodding, Ludwig absorbed the nickname. “You said you were close. I just,” he shook his head to himself. “What happened to him?”

“He died,” Gilbert said, tone mild but shoulders tight. “During the war, like everyone else.”

There was a moment of silence. “I’m sorry,” Ludwig said and Gilbert shrugged.

“He really hated that the Nazis thought Frederick the Great was theirs,” he said. “Like a historic figure could belong to anyone anyway.”

“Do you have any family left?” Ludwig asked and Gilbert shook his head. A thousand more questions had been raised in Ludwig’s head from what little Gilbert had already told him, especially as neither of them had talked about the war since they met. “How old were you?”

“When my parents died?” Gilbert asked. “About nine or ten, I don’t remember exactly. They’d been gone for a while before anyway, traveling or something. Old man Fritz died when I was sixteen.”

“I’m still sorry,” Ludwig said and Gilbert pushed himself to his elbows.

“Yeah? You can’t be sorry for the whole world, Ludwig.”

-0-

Ludwig frowned down at the speech he was proofreading for Roderich to give later in the afternoon, only vaguely paying attention to the talk around him.

“That damn Prussian has been at it again,” one of the other aides said and the other snorted, Roderich looking up from his desk.

“Yeah? Hasn’t any told him the irony of a Prussian trying to create a social revolution?”

“Didn’t they almost?” Feliciano asked in a small voice from where he sat at his desk that was shoved against Ludwig’s and out of the way. “Back in the twenties?”

The aide waved a hand. “Back in Weimar? That hardly changes history.”

“Besides, he’s a pest,” the other aide added and Roderich huffed out a breath before going back down to his own work.

Feliciano pause, clearly disconnect with that explanation before leaning over the desk, finger tips almost touching Ludwig’s and his legs propped up on his chair. “Hey, what do you think?”

“I don’t even know who you’re talking about,” Ludwig replied, not looking up. “Focus,” he added, leveling Feliciano with a look, making the younger laugh and lean back, fiddling with a pen instead of working.

-0-

“Are you getting enough sleep?” Feliciano asked as they walked out of the office. “You’ve seemed more quiet than usual,” he added when Ludwig looked over and down in surprise.

“What? Oh, of course, I’ve been fine,” he said and Feliciano hummed, making a strange sound before shaking his head.

“If you say so,” he said, skipping down the last few steps. “There’s nothing that’s been bothering you, is there?” he asked and Ludwig almost tripped over the last step.

“No,” he said, more firmly than he meant as Feliciano tilted his head, humming again. “No, everything’s fine, truly. Have a good night,” he added and retreated quickly. His steps were both heavy and light, for he was meeting with Gilbert. His fingers itched for how much he wanted to run them through Gilbert’s hair and it had only gotten worse since they had visited Sans Souci together. He thought about what it would be like to kiss him when Roderich was talking, and imagined touching fingers to his spine when he was walking and had run into a door once.

This wasn’t like him at all.

He knew he should stop seeing Gilbert so much. These fantasies were foolish and stupid. He had a career, a life path, and who knew how Gilbert would react if he tired to touch him. Besides which to sleep with another man was still illegal and it would be a scandal.

But when he saw Gilbert already waiting for him and waving a hand across the bar those thoughts flew out of his head as he approached. They drank for a while,  talking about nothing they actually did during the day and Ludwig could suddenly not stand it anymore.

He leaned forward as Gilbert looked over at him in confusion until their sides were almost pressing together. “Do you want me?” Ludwig asked and fear turned his heart cold as soon as the words were out.

Gilbert stilled, and his face twitched into an expression that asked “what?” without saying a word, eyes widening and brows going up, mouth opening slightly. “Do you want me?” Ludwig asked again, panic edging his voice that was low enough no one else could hear them. “Because—because I do,” he said and hesitated before touching Gilbert’s leg under the table.

When Gilbert didn’t move, he almost slunk out of the bar without another word but suddenly Gilbert leaned forward until their faces were close and Ludwig stopped breathing. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Ludwig said, nodding, his hand still touching Gilbert where no one else could see.

For a moment Gilbert’s eyes tracked around Ludwig’s face before he rose suddenly, Ludwig’s hand sliding away and Ludwig bit back a moan of despair before Gilbert tugged him after him. “Come on,” he said. “I need air.”

Ludwig stumbled behind him, until they were in an alleyway and Gilbert pushed him into the corner. “Do you actually know what you’re saying?” he asked.

“Of course I do,” Ludwig protested. “Do you think I’m naïve? I—I’ve wanted you since I saw you I just thought—I like your friendship. But I still…” he trailed off as Gilbert watched him, never sure how the other was reacting underneath his expression. “I still want more.”

“What will you do if I don’t want to give it?” Gilbert asked and Ludwig cut off another pained sound, enough escaping that Gilbert’s brows shot up.

“Then I’ll survive,” Ludwig said and Gilbert’s hand’s tensed from where they were pressed against his coat shoulders for a moment. “But I won’t like it.”

“Just so we’re clear,” Gilbert said, inching forward until Ludwig could feel his breath against his mouth. “When you say you want me—“

“This,” Ludwig breathed and Gilbert’s eyes were still watching him, though it was clear he was having trouble focusing. “I want this.”

“It’s illegal,” Gilbert said like a warning and Ludwig groaned, shaking his head.

“I don’t care.”

Blinking at him, Gilbert leaned back slightly and Ludwig didn’t dare follow. Head whipping around the alley to make sure no one else was there, Gilbert pressed back up, slamming their mouths together and Ludwig’s arms wrapped around him, tilting his head down into the kiss.

It was over almost before it began, with Gilbert stepping back and tugging on Ludwig’s coat tail. “Come on,” he said and Ludwig stumbled after him.

“Where are we going?” he asked and Gilbert glanced back over his shoulder, pace increasing that Ludwig barely could keep up with, despite his longer legs.

“My apartment,” he said and Ludwig almost tripped over his feet at the thought. He had never quite expected things to move so quickly no matter which idle thoughts he entertained. “My flat mate’s gone and none of this deserves to be in public.”

By the time they arrived, Ludwig wasn’t even paying attention to the scuffed up façade, only noticing the stairs enough not to trip as Gilbert finally reached his door and pushed it open. “Come on i—“ he started and Ludwig shoved him the rest of the way in and closed the door behind him. “Hey—“ Gilbert turned around and Ludwig pushed him until his back hit the wall.

“Do you mind if I want you?” Ludwig asked and Gilbert tilted his head back, eyes wide.

“No,” he said and Ludwig pushed him up against the wall, hands sliding under his thighs to hold him up at Ludwig’s eye level. Eyes going even wider, Gilbert caught ahold of his shoulders.

“Can I have you?” Ludwig asked, hesitating at the same place Gilbert had earlier, right before their mouths touched.

Gilbert let out a shaky breath and a quiet hissing laugh. “You’re in my apartment, aren’t you?” he asked and Ludwig lunged forward, still holding Gilbert up against the wall as he dived into the kiss. It felt like a fire blooming in his veins, spreading out from his stomach and where they touched. Gilbert’s hands didn’t stay still, moving from Ludwig’s shoulder to his hair and down his sides and spine and Ludwig groaned, the sound rumbling between them.

“Jesus—“ Gilbert managed to draw in a breath before Ludwig was back, dropping him slightly so his neck craned back to keep their mouths together, Ludwig licking inside first before Gilbert staged a counterattack.

When Ludwig groaned again, Gilbert drew back, panting with his face buried in Ludwig’s shoulder. “Sh,” he said, voice strained. “Shh. The walls are thin, they can’t hear two masculine voices.”

Ludwig growled before he nodded, Gilbert’s eyes snapping to his face again. “Alright,” he said and Gilbert swallowed hard, the motion drawing and keeping Ludwig’s entire attention. “I’ll be quiet,” he said, mouth pressed against Gilbert’s ear and making him whimper, biting his lip.

“I think—ha—we both need to be,” Gilbert said and their eyes met again before Ludwig pulled back from the wall, dropping Gilbert. He instantly discarded his coat, throwing it against the couch and not caring if it landed or not. While Ludwig watched, he stripped out of the first several layers he wore, turning around in only a white tank undershirt before heading for the bedroom.

Seeing a flash of black, Ludwig lunged forward, stopping Gilbert to pull the shirt back from his shirt. “Hey,” Gilbert started quietly and Ludwig’s mouth went dry to see the black eagle tattooed into Gilbert’s shoulder blade.

“This,” Ludwig started and peeled the shirt off Gilbert, who obediently lifted his arms. Ludwig traced the edges of the design, the black against the pale skin making his heart thud against his chest. “It—“

“The Prussian eagle,” Gilbert said, tilting his chin over his shoulder. “Last year, when they dissolved the country. It was my home.”

Their eyes met again, Ludwig letting out a breath before he leaned hard against Gilbert’s back, grabbing his chin to kiss him again like that, the tattoo pressed against his heart. Somehow they stumbled forward, Gilbert turning around to twine his arms around Ludwig’s shoulders and head and walking backward until Ludwig dumped him on his bed.

“You’re still wearing just too much,” Gilbert protested, shoving clothing away from Ludwig’s chest and failing when Ludwig leaned down to pull Gilbert’s shoes off before toeing his own into the corner. “I assume you don’t have anything like that then?” Gilbert said, arching a brow up at where Ludwig was standing while he was sprawled out on the bed.

“A tattoo?” Ludwig asked, kicking his pants off and Gilbert’s face finally made him feel like Gilbert desired him as much as he’d desired Gilbert for months. “No.”

“Jesus,” Gilbert breathed and reached hands out until Ludwig dropped back down on the bed. For a moment they stopped with their noses touching, Gilbert’s hands on Ludwig’s chest and Ludwig braced above him before Gilbert pressed up, wrapping a leg around Ludwig’s waist and pulling him further down.

Ludwig dropped willingly, dragging his teeth along Gilbert’s bottom lip as one of his hands lifted his shoulder blade enough to touch the tattoo again, Gilbert willing undulating upward.

“You’re so,” Ludwig started and cut off with a groan he buried in Gilbert’s collarbone.

“Oh, no, finish complimenting me,” Gilbert laughed breathlessly, kissing his ear but forgot all about it when Ludwig’s fingers dug into his pants.

-0-

It was dark when Gilbert shook Ludwig awake, and he blinked blearily at the window before back at Gilbert, who was backlight from the streetlamps. “It’s four,” Gilbert said and Ludwig rubbed his head, smoothing his hair out of the way. Gilbert flipped his bangs back down and Ludwig narrowed his eyes at him, getting another quiet hissing laugh. “I thought you should leave, before it gets too late. If you leave now, you’ll probably get another hour or two of sleep before where you need to be today.”

“How kind,” Ludwig said and meant it but he pressed Gilbert’s shoulders back into the mattress anyway, and Gilbert muffled his sounds by biting at Ludwig’s shoulder, sucking bruises into the skin there. When Ludwig left, he kissed Gilbert’s shoulder blade from where he was spread out on his stomach on the bed.

“There days,” Gilbert said, voice drowsy. “We should—the usual place and time.”

“Alright,” Ludwig agreed, not sure how he would last for three days before seeing Gilbert again with his taste full in his mouth and his hands feeling the phantom weight of his skin.

He licked the skin one more time before straightening, already dressed and Gilbert grinned into the pillow. “Or two days.”

“Tomorrow,” Ludwig said and Gilbert finally turned to look at him, somewhere between a smirk and surprise.

“Alright,” he grinned and Ludwig felt like something loosened up in his chest. “Tomorrow. Have a good day, honey,” he added with a smirk and Ludwig smiled, shaking his head slightly before slipping through Gilbert’s apartment in the dark, wondering if his flat mate had ever come home in the middle of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My research for this time period (Post War) is vaguely old and fuzzy. 
> 
> -Paragraph 175 outlawed homosexuality since 1871, but in 1935 the Nazis really beefed the law up and it was not abolished in East Germany until 1988 (though it had been scaled back at different stages starting in 1950) and in West Germany until 1994, after unification. 
> 
> -East Germany only becomes a functioning state in 1949, though by this point power had begun to be transferred to German communist leaders
> 
> -Prussia was dissolved 25th February 1947 
> 
> -During the Weimar era Prussia was actually a pillar of democratic government as a free state within the Weimar Republic. From what I remember last year they argued after the war that as a functioning free and democrat state whose leader was outset under the Nazis they deserved to gain their own pre-Nazi government back. 
> 
> -I researched as much as I could about the U and S-Bahn. They both seemed to be back up and functioning during this time and both were started long before WWII. 
> 
> -Sans Souci is a palace built by Frederic the Great in Potsdam and became a tourist attraction under the East German government and was, I believe, one beforehand too. I'm trying to keep Old Man Fritz in Gilbert's life while still keeping his connection to the historic king. 
> 
> -There were definitely German tattoo artists by this time


	2. I Really Did Want to Come and Get You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this proves that even ... over two years later I really don't ever mean to give up any story. I just get super distracted and slowly work my way back.

“I still don’t get it,” Gilbert said, panting on the bed as Ludwig shuffled around the room, looking for his pants. Despite the week of almost always coming to Gilbert’s apartment, he had still never seen his flat mate.

“Get what?” he rumbled, glancing over and wanting to dive back into the bed instead of leave.

Gilbert laughed, looking at him sideways from where he was on his stomach. “How you go from one moment a blushing, stammering persona to a snarling, possessive lover.” Ludwig blushed and Gilbert laughed again. “That, exactly that,” he said.

Moments ago Ludwig had pinned him down on his stomach, neck bent to pull his lips, teeth, and tongue across the eagle tattooed on Gilbert’s skin as drove them both toward climax.

“It’s only around you,” Ludwig managed and Gilbert stared at him a moment too long before shifting without sitting up. Every time Ludwig caught a glimpse of the black ink on the pale skin around it, he could feel heat pool in his belly and his fingers itched. His mouth still tasted the skin around it and he had never expected to want as much or as fiercely as he did.

Romance, to him, had always been something careful, something fragile he would have to court and ease along and protect. He had never imagined Gilbert sliding their hands together and boldly dragging him in another direction, or the grating sound of his laugh or the way his entire back arched in pleasure when Ludwig dragged him down onto the bed to bruise and devour him.

“We should go to dinner,” he said, past the lump forming in his throat.

“We go out all the time,” Gilbert said, red eyes still watching him from the bed.

Walking over, Ludwig bent down, running a hand over Gilbert’s spine and he stretched up into the touch like a cat being pet. “Not a good dinner,” Ludwig said. “Nothing—”

“It’ll illegal,” Gilbert said, guessing where Ludwig was going, with his ideas of courting and candlelight and roses. “You know, what we’re doing. You really wanna let the public more into it? Bars, dinners, those are one thing.”

“I know that,” Ludwig said. “We could still pass as business associates at a more upscale place.”

“Which I can’t afford,” Gilbert returned, sitting up and Ludwig’s hand slid with the movement to rest on the back of his neck.

“I could pay for you,” Ludwig said easily and Gilbert’s expression shuttered. “Please, Gilbert.”

Worrying the inside of his lip, Gilbert finally shrugged and looked away. “I guess, if you’re so set on it. It wouldn’t be a bad thing, now would it?”

Ludwig bent down, kissing his temple and Gilbert kept his head turned away until he drew back. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Gilbert muttered, shaking his head and reaching out to catch Ludwig’s hands, kissing his knuckles before letting them go. Swallowing hard, Ludwig stepped back and retreated from the apartment before he gave in and refused to leave for the rest of the day.

He felt like he could taste Gilbert’s skin all the way to the office.

-0-

Except they did not make it to dinner that week, and Ludwig felt itchy and trapped. He wanted to spend more time with Gilbert and yet found himself endlessly at work or chasing after politicians all across Berlin.

Entering the office again in the middle of the afternoon he barely looked up at where Roderich and several of the others were sitting around the radio. “I honestly don't even know why they give air waves to this,” Roderich said and Ludwig was passing when he stopped.

The voice was grainy and low and distorted, but it was unmistakably Gilbert's. “Rocker says we cannot have an anarchist movement in Germany for a generation! But we're proving him wrong,” he was yelling, and Ludwig assumed it was into a microphone. The FFS is proving him wrong because we don't have to be fascist again!”

“We're not fascist now,” Roderich muttered and Ludwig was rooted to the same spot.

Gilbert was still yelling on the radio, except some other distortions were coming in, another voice yelling about staying calm while Gilbert kept talking. On the other side of the city in an office, Ludwig listened to his speech fall apart into a riot.

“He'll probably spend the night in prison again,” Roderich said.

“Has that ever stopped him before?” Feliciano asked and Ludwig wondered how everyone knew about this except him.

“No,” Roderich said.

“Who was that?” Ludwig asked after a beat, because it was possible he was wrong.

“That damned Prussian, Gilbert Beilschmidt,” Roderich said. “You should know, you've been printing and editing rebuttals to his arguments.”

“Yes,” Ludwig said. “I just—hadn't heard his voice before.”

“You're lucky then,” Roderich said and Ludwig wandered back to his desk, dropping his papers too abruptly and scattering them over the surface.

“Are you alright?” Feliciano asked, craning his neck around and Roderich was staring at him too.

“Perfectly,” Ludwig said and for a second he felt like he meant it.

-0-

“You really didn't have to come bail me out,” Gilbert said, hands shoved into his pockets and staring at Ludwig, who looked and felt out of place in the police station with his expensive wool coat and his hands shoved into his pockets. The contrast between him and Gilbert had never felt so much.

“I heard about the riot is all,” Ludwig said.

“Someone else would have come and gotten me,” Gilbert said. “It's Francis usually. Or Antonio but he was in there with me tonight.”

“Do you want me to bail him out too?” Ludwig asked and Gilbert wrinkled his nose at him.

“No,” he said after a moment. “It's fine. As I said, Francis is probably already on his way.”

“Still,” Ludwig said and they were still standing, too far apart and Ludwig felt like demanding to know what the hell Gilbert was doing as much as he wanted to sink to his knees and explain to Gilbert what he himself did for a living. “I really did want to come and get you.”

“Yeah?” Gilbert arched his brows at him. “That's... cute I guess? Weird.”

Swallowing, Ludwig shrugged and finally Gilbert was moving through the door and out. “I suppose it is.”

For a while they walked down the street in silence. “What about tonight?” Ludwig asked.

“Is that why you came to get me out?” Gilbert asked, eyes sliding over and up.

“No,” Ludwig protested, blushing. “It's not. But...”

“Since we're here and all,” Gilbert said, amused.

“Since we're here,” Ludwig agreed faintly.

For a block Gilbert walked with his hands shoved into his thin coat. “My flatmate will be in tonight,” he said. “So that's a no go. I mean, I don't think he'd—but it's just better not to go there.”

“Where does he go most nights anyway?” Ludwig asked and Gilbert just laughed, shaking his head.

“That's his business and not yours,” he said and considering the revelations of the day Ludwig decided not to press. Instead he shoved his hands deeper into his coat pockets as winter inched closer.

“Why don't you come over then?” he asked and Gilbert tripped on his next step, righting himself before he fell.

Eyes darting up and down the street, he finally focused on Ludwig again. “Excuse me?”

“Come over,” Ludwig said, eyes forward and shoulders tense.

“Why?” Gilbert asked and Ludwig stopped. It was late and there were few people on the street.

“Why do you think?” he asked and Gilbert's head was tilted back, his eyes narrowed as he considered Ludwig. “I don't see why this would be surprising to you.”

The corners of Gilbert's mouth flickered. “It's just,” he said and Ludwig wondered if he was actually nervous, or if there was some other meaning to the way he shifted from foot to foot, not quite meeting Ludwig's eyes. “You've never actually asked me. Before. To yours.”

“I want you to come,” Ludwig said.

Gilbert stared at him and then the corner of his mouth twitched up and there was the gleam in his eyes that Ludwig recognized. “How thin are your walls exactly?”

“Not as thin as yours.”

-0-

Ludwig, for once, didn't care what his neighbors thought as he led Gilbert up inside, his clothes and posture marking him out as not belonging. Because all Ludwig wanted was to get him on the bed, to touch and hold onto hi m. Ever since he had heard him that morning on the radio, all he could think about was how much he wanted him.

Which wasn't new.

Knowing what those meetings he kept going to were, knowing what he scribbled when they walked sometimes, the people Ludwig saw him with from time to time. Knowing they were opposed politically when politics were their lives only made him want more.

“Nice place,” Gilbert said, kicking the toe of his shoe on the floor of the entry as he looked around. “Clean.”

“So is your place,” Ludwig said, shrugging out of his coat and he reached forward to pull Gilbert's open, sliding it down his arms and he swallowed his grin.

“Maybe that's why we get along so well,” Gilbert said.

“Because we're clean?” Ludwig asked, and he had his fingers twisted up in Gilbert's buttons when Gilbert threw his arms around his neck, yanking him down and tilting against Ludwig.

“It's something,” he said and Ludwig lost the thread of the conversation, sucking on Gilbert's bottom lip. “We still have to be quiet,” Gilbert managed when he pulled away, his eyes blown and still grinning as he nuzzled against Ludwig's neck, standing on his toes. “People saw us come in here together.”

“I know,” Ludwig said, his fingers shaking because Gilbert's neighborhood, bombed out and desperate was one thing. But here there were people who saw him every day, who knew his name and what he stood for.

But Gilbert's mouth was wide and his fingers were cold on the back of Ludwig's neck and that was all that mattered.

-0-

A few nights later he found Gilbert at the bar, where he was often found, sitting between two men. One was blond and loud, the other with green eyes and a smile both distant and sharp.

“It wasn't our least successful event,” the green eyed man said.

“Tonio, you're mad,” the blond protested, Gilbert drinking between them and Ludwig stopped at the bar, close enough to hear but not so close as to be obviously listening. Gilbert noticed him, and he flicked a hand in Ludwig's direction in greeting but didn't call him over or leave the conference going on around him.

“Nothing exploded this time,” Antonio said.

“Nothing's ever exploded,” the blond protested, leaning his elbows on the table. “You ended up in jail again. No one's listening to us.”

“That's not really the point of speaking,” Gilbert said and the blond leaned back arms crossed over his chest as he huffed.

“I can't tell if you have faith in the world or not, mon cher.”

“We're not doing this for glory or safety or because we're being paid for it. We're doing it because we believe, right?” Gilbert asked and Antonio raised his glass to clink it with him. “Besides, it's awesome.”

“Causing riots and starving?”

“Francis, if you didn't believe you wouldn't be here either,” Antonio said and Gilbert leaned forward, their voices dropping into a whispers.

When Gilbert finally approached, Antonio and Francis leaning on each other, Ludwig was deep into his second beer. “Neither of them are German,” Ludwig remarked.

“Noticed that, did you?” Gilbert asked. “Well, Spain had that war and France has it's own issues.”

“Not like here,” Ludwig snapped and Gilbert cocked his head at him.

“Really?” he asked and Ludwig looked away. After a moment Gilbert's hand touched his shoulder. “Hey,” he said softly. “Haven't seen you in a couple days.”

“I've been busy with work,” Ludwig said.

“Figured,” Gilbert said and Ludwig wondered if he already knew and just didn't care, because he had never asked. He accepted everything Ludwig said about work without asking what exactly he did. “But you're here now.”

“Come over,” Ludwig said.

Gilbert froze, before he grinned. “Yeah,” he said, and it made Ludwig feel better, every time Gilbert looked at him like he didn't know what was going on either, but like he needed this as much as Ludwig did.

Maybe politics didn't matter.

Not as much as that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost hate to just quote wikipedia flat out but:
> 
> "After World War II, an appeal in the Fraye Arbeter Shtime detailing the plight of German anarchists and called for Americans to support them. By February 1946, the sending of aid parcels to anarchists in Germany was a large-scale operation. In 1947, Rocker published Zur Betrachting der Lage in Deutschland (Regarding the Portrayal of the Situation in Germany) about the impossibility of another anarchist movement in Germany. It became the first post-World War II anarchist writing to be distributed in Germany. Rocker thought young Germans were all either totally cynical or inclined to fascism and awaited a new generation to grow up before anarchism could bloom once again in the country. Nevertheless, the Federation of Libertarian Socialists (FFS) was founded in 1947 by former FAUD members. Rocker wrote for its organ, Die Freie Gesellschaft, which survived until 1953.[47] "
> 
> This chapter is incredibly internally focused on Ludwig. While that was really interesting to write, it is also likely to change a bit more. I'd say soon because I really do mean to just finish this story this time but considering my track record let's not play with fire there.


	3. It's Nothing I Did. It is What I am.

Gilbert's shirt was in his hands as he wandered around Ludwig's apartment. “You really do have a nice place,” he said, bending at the waist and squinting at a vase on the bottom shelf.

“My family is from the South,” Ludwig said, watching him with his arms over his chest and trying not to be too obvious about his regard. “We were able to save a lot.”

Gilbert hummed under his breath, shaking his head and Ludwig wanted to reach out and hold him. But he resisted.

“You know,” Gilbert said, his back to Ludwig as he turned to look at Ludwig's book shelf. “We tried to get stuff out. Old man Fritz I mean. There were all these others, who lived in the grand houses. Like, when things got dire we all started sending art and family papers and stuff West. A lot of it still got lost and what's left is probably destroyed. This one guy, he planned it all out without looking at all like he was going to run. Went with three hundred on horses and carts.”

Ludwig's hands itched again. “Were you there?” he asked. “At the end of the war?”

“Yeah,” Gilbert said.

“Did you leave with them?” Ludwig asked. “With the... carts and horses?”

“No,” Gilbert said. “I only got to Berlin last year.” He laughed, shaking his head as he finally turned around. “You know. When they started kicking all the Germans left out.”

“You,” Ludwig frowned. “But—”

“I don't want to talk about it,” Gilbert said, turning back around, and outside the sky was barely starting to lighten. “I'd rather you kiss me again before I go.”

“You should go,” Ludwig said, approaching anyway and sliding his hands around Gilbert's thin waist. “People will be stirring soon.”

“And this isn't really my neighborhood,” Gilbert said, tilting his head so their mouths were barely hovering over each other. “I'll stand out even more.”

“Yes,” Ludwig agreed, framing his face and leaning down, covering Gilbert's mouth gently. He felt Gilbert shift, pressing closer in tiny increments and tilting his whole body upward. For a lingering moment, all Ludwig focused on was the press of their lips and the beat of Gilbert's heart that he felt through his finger tips.

“I should go,” Gilbert managed when he leaned back on his heels, eyes a little dazed and Ludwig wanted to pack him into the bed room.

“Yes,” he agreed again and watched Gilbert finish dressing.

“You know,” Gilbert said, not looking at him as he wound a scarf around his neck, one Ludwig hadn't seen before last night. “The more we do this, the more likely we are to get caught.”

Looking away, Ludwig focused on the wooden door jamb. “While that's true,” he said. “I don't care.”

“You don't care?” Gilbert repeated. “Of course you care. You've just decided you care about this more.”

Ludwig sighed softly, looking at him again and smiling. “Alright,” he agreed. “You're right. I do just care about this more.”

Gilbert paused before reaching out, tracing his fingers down Ludwig's face. “See you soon then?”

“Yes,” Ludwig said, catching his hand and kissing his palm before he released it.

-0-

Pulling his thin collar up higher, Gilbert followed Antonio through the crowd. “How exactly does rallies strike anyone as a good idea anymore?” he asked the air in front of him.

“Because they like an excuse to gather and listen,” Antonio said, more focused on maneuvering the crowd in front of them.

“You think it would be tainted,” Gilbert said.

“Short memories maybe,” Antonio said, the touch of dryness seeping into his voice that sneaked in there sometimes when people were paying attention to his smile. “It's not so different from us standing on boxes and screaming, is it?”

“Yeah, it is,” Gilbert said, twitching his shoulders back as he looked around the crowd and the banners hanging in the square.

Humming, Antonio made it several more steps before he realized that he had lost Gilbert. Turning back around, he frowned at where Gilbert had frozen and was staring straight at the platform where a member of the Christian Democratic Union of Germany stood, giving a speech. “Gilbert?” he asked, because they had known who was on the stage before they started crossing the square, pamphlets under their arms.

Someone jostled Gilbert and suddenly he was moving, pushing through the crowd and toward the stage. “Gilbert,” Antonio protested, but gave up and followed him. “Gilbert we have somewhere to be—”

Reaching the front of the crowd, Gilbert came to a stop and for a moment he stood there, not moving or saying anything. One of the politicians, standing behind the speaker caught sight of him and smirked, as if he was better for being on the stage and not below it. “We'll be late,” Antonio said when he finally saw what—or who rather—Gilbert had been staring at so intently.

Standing in the back, almost hidden was the broad shouldered blond man that Antonio had seen Gilbert drinking with a few times. Once, when Francis had asked who he was, Gilbert had laughed too loudly, throwing his arm over Francis' shoulder and telling him not to worry. He was simply a man that bought Gilbert drinks and didn't talk politics with him.

Now, Gilbert stared at him in fury and the man looked sick as he returned Gilbert's gaze. The fingers of his left hand twitched, like he wanted to reach out. After a few moments of the silent conversation they were having, Gilbert abruptly turned and stormed back through the crowd. Antonio floated after him, looking over his shoulder from time to time.

The blond man still looked stricken.

-0-

Ludwig stood outside Gilbert's apartment door, raising his hand to knock and dropping it again. He had repeated that motion several times already. Every once and a while he heard a sound from inside, the murmur of voices.

He assumed, as such, that Gilbert was home.

Raising his hand again, he finally gave in and knocked.

There was silence and shuffle before the door opened, a broad shouldered and tall man that Ludwig had never seen opening the door. He had a pale scarf wrapped around his throat and he was smiling as he looked Ludwig up and down. “Ah,” he said, and Ludwig took a step back. “So you must be Ludwig, da?”

The Russian word in the midst of his accented German almost made Ludwig step back again.

“I am, yes,” he said.

The man at the door frowned at him. “He doesn't want to see you,” he said.

“Well I want to see him,” Ludwig returned.

“I am not sure it is up to you,” the man said, crossing his arms over his chest and Ludwig found himself watching him a bit warily. He was a decent fighter, and had grown up boxing. But he still did not relish the thought of trying to fight his way in.

“I really need to see him,” he said instead. “I assume you are his flat mate?”

“Da,” the man agreed and held out his hand, something that looked like a friendly gesture except it was too abrupt and almost violent. “I am Ivan.”

Ludwig's brows inched up but he nodded, accepting the hand. “You already know my name,” he said and let go as soon as he could. “I mean it though. I really do need to see him.”

“Whatever you did made him quite upset,” Ivan said, crossing his arms again.

“It's nothing I did,” Ludwig protested. “It is what I am.”

Just like that Gilbert appeared in the doorway behind Ivan. “Nothing you did?” he demanded, bracing one hand on the door frame and using Ivan to support himself. “What you _are_? You aren't born into a damned political party, Ludwig. You chose one.” 

Ludwig's chest clenched and he wanted to reach out but instead crossed his arms just to keep them close to himself and not Gilbert. “I chose the one that reflected most who I was,” Ludwig said. 

Gilbert snarled at him, and Ivan tilted his head down to look at him. “And you chose the ones that are Fascist, Ludwig?”

Frowning, Ludwig barely even remembered they were still standing in the hallway, Ivan a steady presence between them. “They—we're not Fascists!” 

Gilbert laughed, too high and angry. “Are you kidding me? Have you taken a look at your party members? What about that one, Roderich? Do you know what he was doing during the war?”

“Do I know what you were?” Ludwig shot back and Gilbert's face went blank. 

“For that matter,” he said slowly. “I don't know what you were doing.”

“I grew up,” Ludwig said. “And then I joined the army like I was supposed to.”

“Supposed to,” Gilbert said and his voice sounded a little hollow, too wrong. “Like you were supposed to. Jesus, no wonder those nationalist fuckers are what you agree with.”

Ludwig's fingers clenched. “I fought in France. I was taken captive by American soldiers and now I am here. I have done everything that was expected of me and now I have a job. One I believe in, one I enjoy. It is not personal to you.”

“Of course it's personal!” Gilbert cried out and then shrank back.

“Ah,” Ivan said. “Perhaps we should actually move inside, da?”

Gilbert moved away, turning his back on Ludwig and muttering something about needing a drink. Ivan stepped aside and Ludwig eyed him before following Gilbert inside as Ivan closed the door. “Gilbert,” he said, still keeping from reaching out. 

“Shut up,” Gilbert muttered, bending down to pull several bottles from under the sink. 

“Gilbert,” Ludwig tried again.

“No,” Gilbert said, cutting through the air with his hand. “You—hell—I guess it should have been obvious. No, I don't want to talk politics,” he said, changing his voice to mock Ludwig's. 

“You're the one who said you did not want to talk about them,” Ludwig said defensively. “Politics have nothing to do with us. Who we are. What we are to each other.”

“It has everything to do with us! We live our politics, don't lie! It's our lives and you think we can just... ignore that? Just pretend we don't disagree on the fundamental meaning of the world, how to live a good life and make things right?”

“What matters is what we feel for each other,” Ludwig said, and Ivan shifted, reminding him all at once he was still there. But he didn't care, because everything he had was focused on Gilbert, who refused to meet his eyes. “I care about you.”

“You should have told me,” Gilbert said, almost a whisper.

“You didn't tell me either,” Ludwig shot back. “I found out when I bailed you out of jail.”

“Which would have been a great time to bring it up!” Gilbert snapped. “Hi, baby, nice to see you. So I found out today we disagree on just about everything and maybe I should explain to you why! Because I'm a damned sell out to the powers that—” 

“Stop it,” Ludwig cut him off. “Just, stop it.”

“Oh, can I not speak my mind again?” Gilbert said. “I thought we were trying to move away from that totalitarian state.”

“We are,” Ludwig said. “We all are. Including my party. You really think we want to go back to the way things were?”

“I think your party is delusional if you think you're that different,” Gilbert said. “Do you know how many Nazis are even in your party?”

“We've been denazified,” Ludwig protested. “The whole country has.”

“No it hasn't!” Gilbert yelled. “Not even close! Sure, some of them were executed, some put away, but the rank and file, those that allowed this all to happen, you really think—”

“And could we have punished everyone?” Ludwig asked. “Would we have a country left? Or do you have some left over guilt that's making you over react?” 

Gilbert froze, staring at him. “What the hell?” he asked. 

“You're claiming so many got away,” Ludwig said, his voice chilly. “So. Are you feeling some left over guilt? You never told me what you did during the war either—” 

Before he realized it, Gilbert was in front of him, his fist flying at Ludwig's face. Ludwig staggered back under the force of the punch, catching himself on the couch. Ivan was still standing there, looking between them as Ludwig touched the corner of his mouth, his fingers coming away with blood. 

“Get out,” Gilbert said, voice ice.

“But,” Ludwig started, his hand shaking.

“Did you not hear me?”

“I love you,” Ludwig said, desperation beating in his chest. It felt like if he didn't say it, if he didn't prove that to Gilbert right then and there he might never have the chance again.

Gilbert's eyes just narrowed. “Get out,” he repeated. 

Taking a shaky breath, Ludwig turned, almost making it to the door before he had to stop again. “Kicking me out isn't going to change that,” he said, hand on the door.

“I don't care,” Gilbert said. “I don't want to see you again, I want you _out_ and I don't want you to come back.”

Ludwig turned. “You don't mean that.”

“Try me,” Gilbert said, and he was holding himself perfectly still, almost quivering. 

“You don't,” Ludwig said. “Because you love me too.”

“Out,” Gilbert snarled, a low and anguished sound. 

Finally, Ludwig obeyed, closing the door carefully behind him.

-0-

“You look like you're not sleeping again,”Feliciano said, leaning over his desk to speak to Ludwig.

“I'm fine,” Ludwig said, ignoring the shadows under his eyes. They always looked a little bruised, but currently they looked more like someone had given him a black eye. They matched well the bruise on his mouth.

“And you really won't tell me who punched you?” Feliciano asked.

“No,” Ludwig said. “Besides, I said it was an accident. There's nothing to tell.”

“I don't believe it was just a bar fight you got caught in accidentally,” Feliciano said, settling back into his seat. “That's not like you. And you wouldn't be acting like this otherwise.”

“Like what?” Ludwig asked, not daring to meet his eyes.

“Like you're hurting,” Feliciano said. “Bleeding inside somewhere from a wound you won't talk about.”

“I'm not a poetry book,” Ludwig said after a moment. “I'm not—there's no wounds. I'm fine.” He rose abruptly. “I have to run this down to the printers,” he said, shuffling away. 

Because Feliciano was perceptive enough to notice and Ludwig wanted nothing more than to never talk about Gilbert again. It was bad enough that he went home, and went around the apartment remembering each of the few times Gilbert had been there. It would be better if he could go to Gilbert's apartment, and touch the furniture there and remember kissing Gilbert against the doorjamb leading to the bedroom.

Except that would defeat the whole purpose. 

Instead he was left alone in his pristine room, without Gilbert's laugh or the scent of his hair. 

His mind kept wandering to the tattoo on Gilbert's back, to the feel of his rough hair, and the glasses and hat he had worn to Potsdam. He missed him with an ache under his breastbone, but still he knew better than to try and go back to that apartment, to beg at the door to be let back in.

If Gilbert was anything, it seemed he was clear.

Ludwig had made it all the way to the printers when he finally looked up. 

Gilbert was walking out of the door of another shop, booklets in his arms and laughing to the shopkeeper, holding the door open with his back to continue the conversation for a moment longer. 

Coming to a complete stop, Ludwig could only stare. He wanted to reach out, or at least call out but before he could, Gilbert turned and saw him.

For a second the street between them felt like nothing, and they might as well have been alone. Ludwig found his mouth forming Gilbert's name before he could stop it, but Gilbert just turned his back to him and walked away.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Sinners by Lauren Aquilina](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TyMal7io41s) is very much a song for Gilbert and Ludwig here.

Ivan took the bottle away from Gilbert, his flatmate sprawled over their couch. “You should stop,” he said, considering the tiny amount of clear liquid in the bottle critically. “This was expensive.”

“Doesn't that American give you plenty of cigarettes?” Gilbert slurred, his head flopping over to one side.

“He is not my American,” Ivan scowled. “Besides, he prefers giving out chocolate than cigarettes.” He snorted, shaking his head. “And that is still only so good on the black market.” 

“Maybe when he goes home, he'll take you with him,” Gilbert said and Ivan snorted again. 

“Oh yes, his trophy Russian. I punched him in the face last night, anyway.”

“You're a mess,” Gilbert drawled, loose limbed on the couch, throwing his arms up over his head. 

“And you are drunk,” Ivan said. “It is still bothering you.”

“What is? I'm not bothered by a damned thing,” Gilbert said, grinning up at him and Ivan crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Your lover,” Ivan said and even as drunk as he was Gilbert still tensed. “The fight you had.”

“It wasn't so much a fight,” Gilbert said and Ivan smiled, because he had been there and Gilbert had never been a good liar. “More a total burning to the ground of our relationship.”

“Is it really so bad as that?” Ivan asked, gathering up the cheaper beer bottles that Gilbert had already gone through before going for his Vodka. “You still love him. He still loves you.”

Gilbert shook his head, making his white hair stand up in static electricity as it rubbed against the pathetic pillow they had on the couch. “No, that doesn't matter.”

“Why not?” Ivan asked, dropping the bottles in the sink.

Gilbert laughed, and it sounded strained and angry. “It would be one thing if we just disagreed. But god, we,” and he covered his face.

“It is just politics,” Ivan said. 

“You of all people know it's never just that,” Gilbert said between his fingers and Ivan hesitated before he shoved and prodded at Gilbert until he could jam himself on the couch too. He ended up with his back pressed into the back of the couch, Gilbert curled up light and fragile as a bird in his arms, and loose and drunk enough for once not to protest it. 

“But you love him,” Ivan said. 

“Yeah,” Gilbert said, one long sigh. “Yeah I do.”

“And you are tearing yourself apart,” Ivan added. 

“Shut up,” Gilbert mumbled, and nuzzled into Ivan's chest. “Get me more beer if you're going to be like this.”

“You should work it out with him,” Ivan pressed steadily on.

“You gonna kiss your American yet?” Gilbert shot back with.

Ivan froze for a long moment. “I already did, once,” he said. “It was a fluke. We are not a thing. We will never be a thing.”

“Still think you should see if he'll take you home,” Gilbert said, one hand fluttering around before landing back on Ivan. “Get away from here, from hiding from your own soldiers and start over.”

“In America?” Ivan snorted. “No. I may never go to Russia but I do not wish to go there. Besides, we are not talking about me, but about you and _your_ lover.”

“Nothing to talk about,” Gilbert said. “Don't have a lover any more.” He rolled his head back to meet Ivan's eyes. “Can you imagine the others though? Hey, look, meet my boy. He's in the damned CDU and joined the Hitler brigade because it was just the right thing to do!”

“They might not be so angry as you think,” Ivan said.

“Sure, sure,” Gilbert said. “Antonio would probably talk about free love and Francis would laugh for a decade and they would both be impossible. But—except—for the CDU thing. He's against everything we're fighting for. It's not just a stupid affair that could land me—us—in jail, it's with the enemy.”

“Enemies are not so defined as they used to be.”

“I'm drunk and needy, stop pushing your advantage,” Gilbert muttered and Ivan laughed. “I'm serious though, about you getting out of here. The other day there were some Soviets talking at the border again, you know, to their territory. It's becoming more separate by the day and—” 

“But that is why we live here,” Ivan said softly. “Not in the Soviet sector.”

“One of the reasons,” Gilbert allowed. “If they find you—”

“It has been several years,” Ivan said, staring at the wall. “I know what would happen.”

“I'd rather you not end up in the prison camps, you know?” Gilbert said. 

Ivan laughed because anything else hurt too much. “Ah,” he teased. “You do care.”

Gilbert shoved at his chest, battering him with loose fists and no force behind it. “Shut up. You're like a stray cat. I have a thing for strays.”

“Because you are one?” Ivan asked, still smiling through the pain.

“I'm the most functional stray you'll find,” Gilbert said and Ivan hugged him tighter, on their horrible couch in their awful flat in the middle of a Berlin still half in ruins. 

-0-

Ludwig felt like he was sleep walking. 

The other day he had found himself on Gilbert's block before he realized it and had stomped all the way back to his own neighborhood. 

He was washing his face and staring at the mirror when the knock came at his door a few nights after that incident. For a while he continued to look at the mirror, almost not answering the door at all. Finally, he pushed himself away, toweling off his face as he walked across his apartment. 

“Yes?” he asked, yanking the door open and freezing, Gilbert standing with his hands shoved into his pockets. For a while they both stared at each other.

“I'm still mad,” Gilbert said, breaking the silence first. “In fact, I'm furious.”

“Alright,” Ludwig said, voice sounding hollow. 

“Can I come in?” Gilbert asked, eyes darting up and down the hall and Ludwig obediently stepped back, holding the door open for Gilbert to slide through. 

Once inside, neither of them seemed inclined to speak again as Gilbert wandered around his apartment for a while, considering the books and the small collection of knick knacks Ludwig had. 

Finally, Ludwig could endure the silence no more. “Gilbert—”

“The thing is,” Gilbert cut him off. “That I can't figure out is exactly how this is supposed to work. Our politics are our damned lives. I believe with everything I am in what I'm fighting for and I presume you have to have some passion for what you're doing in turn.”

“Yes,” Ludwig nodded. 

“So how does that work?” Gilbert asked, gesturing between them with one hand. “Me, wanting to abolish the damned nation, and you wanting to rebuild the same nationalist apparatus that got us into the last war.”

“Not the same,” Ludwig protested. “We're not trying to make the same state—but a new state, a better one.”

“But still a state,” Gilbert snapped. 

“We have to have some guiding principles, some organization,” Ludwig said and they went back to staring at each other, all the way across Ludwig's living room. All he wanted to do was reach across the space and drag Gilbert toward him. Every once and a while, Gilbert would twitch, like he wanted to move forward too. 

“See?” he asked softly. “How are we gonna do this? We can't just not talk about it anymore. We're way too far gone for that. And we can't just have an affair—” 

“Why not?” Ludwig asked and Gilbert jerked like he had been struck.

“You son of a—okay, you know what, that was my answer, nevermind,” and he was storming for the door. 

Ludwig moved quickly to block it, eyes wide and he grabbed Gilbert's arm. “That's not what I meant,” he said quickly. 

“No?” Gilbert asked. “What was?”

“I don't know,” Ludwig said and dropped Gilbert's arm, moving back but not away from the door. “I didn't mean it.” 

“Then why say it?” Gilbert asked and he was looking up at Ludwig, not having moved back or forward. 

Leaning against the door, Ludwig gave him a faint and wry smile. “I—I can't imagine just having a surface affair with you. It was stupid to say. I love you and that means something totally different, doesn't it? I want to be with you, to wake up with you, to go to Potsdam and the rebuilt museums, I want to dance with you and have you reading a book in my apartment while I cook dinner, I want to go to pubs and drink and pretend not to touch you under the table, I want—”

“It sounds a hell lot like you want to spend your life with me,” Gilbert said, voice strained. 

“Yes,” Ludwig breathed, because that had been the easy answer, the neat bow on top of his ramble. 

“I can't move in with you,” Gilbert said. “I mean—I could. But everyone would want to know why, why we met, why we get along. Your bosses don't like me, it would make them mad if they found out.”

“We could run away,” Ludwig said promptly. 

Gilbert laughed, the sound desperate. “No, we won't,” he said.

After a moment's thought, Ludwig had to agree with him. “No,” he murmured. “We won't.”

“So,” Gilbert said, giving him a strained smile again. “What do we do?”

Ludwig's hands were itching. “Do you really mean it?” he asked. “Having a go at this again?”

“I can't not,” Gilbert said and he sounded pained. “I tried it, you know, to be angry enough to forget. When a guy like Ivan sees through you though, you need to reevaluate your plan. And he saw through me so fast—I miss you. I'm angry and I miss you and that just makes me more angry—”

Ludwig swooped down, cupping Gilbert's face in both his hands and covering his mouth. Letting out a shocked whimper, Gilbert leaned up on his toes, his hands braced against Ludwig's chest. For a second that was all that mattered to either of them, Gilbert's quiet sounds and Ludwig's big hands moving from his cheeks to the back of his neck and down his shoulders to wrap around his waist. 

“I missed you,” Ludwig whispered and Gilbert bit back his laugh, nuzzling in for another kiss.

-0-

“This doesn't actually solve any of our problems,” Gilbert said later, sitting at Ludwig's tiny table in his tiny kitchen, only wearing Ludwig's too big shirt and his underwear. His fingers were wrapped around a mug and his eyes followed Ludwig as he cooked. “Also, you're going to be really mad at yourself tomorrow when you get no sleep.”

“I can call in sick, if I have to,” Ludwig said and Gilbert laughed. 

“Really? For me?” he teased. 

“You're worth it,” Ludwig said baldly, and Gilbert shifted, uncomfortable at that but still smiling. 

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Don't just say things like that.”

“I mean it,” Ludwig said, and he kept catching sight of Gilbert in his shirt out of the corner of his eyes. “I love you.”

“You just like saying that,” Gilbert shot back.

“I just like having you here,” Ludwig said.

“Oh, no,” Gilbert groaned. “Is this going to become a thing? You trying to embarrass me with bad flirting? Because you don't want to open that door with me, believe me—”

Abandoning the stove, Ludwig leaned over, bracing his hands on the table and cutting Gilbert off with a kiss. He could feel Gilbert's mouth curl into a smile against his own, and Gilbert's hands came up to wrap around his shoulders. “I thought you were cooking,” Gilbert murmured when he pulled back.

“It can watch itself for a minute,” Ludwig said, and pressed forward again, Gilbert shifting to pull his knees up beneath him to leverage himself higher, his hands slipping under Ludwig's shirt and smoothing against the skin of his stomach. 

“You shouldn't burn it,” he whispered against Ludwig's mouth and Ludwig shoved the shoulder of his shirt on Gilbert down, mouthing at the skin there. 

Gilbert jumped and laughed, leaning his head back to let Ludwig cover more skin in kisses. 

“You are so,” he started and shook his head as he trailed off.

“So what?” Ludwig asked, looking up at him without removing his mouth. 

“Needy,” Gilbert decided and Ludwig grinned at him, as Gilbert's fingers found his spine and pressed down hard. “And I'm going to need you to actually kiss me again.”

“Alright,” Ludwig said, as if it was a chore as he swallowed Gilbert's laugh again.

He did end up burning dinner, because he ended up pressing Gilbert down against the table and teasing him until he was biting his fingers to keep from yelling. 

-0-

“Ivan approves,” Gilbert said even later, pulling his jacket on in the predawn light. 

Ludwig blinked at that. “He... he does?”

“Oddly?” Gilbert said and shrugged. “He was very encouraging.” Gilbert paused. “I'm still mad, by the way.” 

Ludwig grinned at him, feeling goofy and elated. “Okay,” he said. “I can deal with that.”

Gilbert stared at him before he gave up, grinning back. “Yeah, well, we can work through it.”

“That's all I want,” Ludwig said, barely keeping himself from reaching out again, just to make sure Gilbert really was there.

“Really? The totally completely only thing?” Gilbert teased. 

“And another kiss,” Ludwig said, his resolve not to touch Gilbert again before he left crumbling. 

Sighing, as if it was a bother, Gilbert stepped back into his arms. 

When he left, Ludwig dressed himself carefully and looked at himself in the mirror until he convinced himself he wasn't smiling like a fool anymore.

An illusion that disappeared the moment he stepped into the office. “Ludwig!” Feliciano greeted him and his eyes flickered from his smile to his neck and he made a low sound like he had figured out a mystery. 

“Good morning,” Ludwig said and frowned. “What?”

“You have a lover!” Feliciano declared, a little too loudly and Ludwig's eyes widened. That at least, was guaranteed to wipe the smile off his face. 

“What?” he asked. 

“You are almost glowing,” Feliciano said. “And there's a bite, on your neck there,” and Ludwig covered the spot Feliciano gestured to with a hand. He wanted to curse Gilbert except he knew he left far more marks on his pale skin. 

“That doesn't mean—”

“It explains so much,” Feliciano blazed on. 

“What explains so much?” Roderich asked, approaching from behind Ludwig, and Ludwig gave Feliciano a panicked look that the small Italian seemed to miss entirely.

“Well, that Ludwig has a lover,” Feliciano chirped. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not ever write the side story about Ivan and his American I have in my head. 
> 
> Considering that any Soviet POW or forced laborer was sent to the Gulag after the end of the war, Ivan, who has been hiding from his own authorities for about three years, would most certainly be sent to the Gulag or worse at this point.


	5. Just Find a Way

“You're leaving, aren't you?” Gilbert asked, watching Antonio who was still trying to smile, even though it looked forced.

“I'm not saying it's a lost cause,” he said. “But I came here almost a decade ago. It's time for me to move on.”

“Spreading your gospel as far as you can go?” Gilbert asked and Francis was sitting tight lipped next to them.

Antonio stared at him for a long moment. “You're just scared maybe Germany will never be the country you want it to be, and you cannot stand someone else giving up on it.”

Blinking furiously, Gilbert looked away.

“You never will leave here, will you?” Francis asked.

“I already lost one home,” Gilbert said.

“That's the only reason?” Antonio asked, and he was smiling but there was something else in his expression.

“If you want to ask me something just _ask_ it—”

“The man on the platform,” Antonio said. “You and him.”

Gilbert froze, forcibly reminding himself that these were his friends who he trusted. “I said if you had a question to just ask it.”

“It's not really a question,” Antonio said after a beat. “Simply that you're not going to leave as long as he's here.”

“You're making an assumption,” Gilbert said and Antonio still smiled at him.

“A bit of one,” he said. “But can you deny it?”

Gilbert considered the grain of the wood on the tabletop. “No,” he decided finally.

“It's okay, Gilbert,” Antonio said, and he reached out. It was a mark of exactly how much Gilbert trusted him that he didn't jerk back. “Germany will still need it's fighters.”

“Where are you even planning on going?” Francis asked.

“Italy, maybe,” Antonio said with a smile that covered something else. “Maybe Greece.”

“You might want to leave Greece alone a couple more years,” Francis said and Gilbert leaned back, trying to focus on the night in front of him, not the nebulous future.

-0-

Gilbert stumbled home, tired and worn out and strung thin from too much beer to find Ludwig sitting awkwardly across from Ivan, who had a bottle of Vodka cradled to his chest.

“Um,” Gilbert managed, catching himself on the door. “If our status quo is going to be actually secretive this is not a great way to start—”

“I'm sorry,” Ludwig said, rising. “I just really wanted to see you tonight.”

Gilbert tipped his head back as his approached, trying not to ogle. “Not that it isn't nice to see you—”

“I want to talk.”

“Tonight?” Gilbert asked. “God, Ludwig, we didn't even sleep last night—” and he blushed abruptly when Ivan cleared his throat. “I mean. Okay. We can talk.”

Which is how he ended up sitting on his bed, watching Ludwig pace. “What's wrong?” he asked, one of his legs folded on the bed and his elbow resting on it, chin in his palm.

“My—one of my fellow workers noticed today,” Ludwig said.

“Noticed what?”

“That I had a lover,” and Gilbert tensed. “He was very well meaning, very pleased for me, and told Roderich.”

Gilbert scowled at the mention of Roderich. “Okay. But they don't know about us, right?”

“They both wanted to meet her,” Ludwig said, visibly more and more agitated. “Roderich wanted me to bring her over for dinner. Says he's been lonely since his wife left him.”

“He deserved that,” Gilbert muttered and Ludwig looked like he wanted to ask, wanted to slot Roderich into the pieces of his past Gilbert had scattered around himself.

“The point is,” Ludwig said. “At some point I'm expected that I'm going to marry. That I'm going to make a proper wife out of whatever girl it is I'm sleeping with. It's one thing when young and stupid and—and honestly no one is judging anyone for some happiness right now. But with the way—”

“Your party believe in repressive sexual mores?” Gilbert asked. “Please don't tell me you believe your own press about the Nazis—”

“Someday I'm going to be expected to marry and have children,” Ludwig said.

“Fuck that, and fuck them,” Gilbert said, rising to his feet. He had been tired and a little drunk earlier but anger had burned through that. “If you want someone to introduce to your buddies, you would never have chosen me. You knew I wasn't ever going to give you a—a housewife and kids. You knew that.”

“I did. That's not what I want from you.”

“Look, this is going to be stupid and dangerous,” Gilbert said. “We're—we're breaking the law. It's a stupid law, but it's still a law. But if you can't live without those things—”

“I can,” Ludwig said. He reached out, hesitantly touching his fingers to Gilbert's cheeks. “I just panicked. It's not an issue that's going to go away.”

“Figure out a way to be a bachelor then,” Gilbert said. “Just find a way.”

“I will,” Ludwig said, drawing Gilbert closer to him and Gilbert let him. For a while they stood like that. “Where were you tonight?” Ludwig asked.

“With Antonio and Francis,” Gilbert said and it felt like a punch all over again. “Antonio is leaving.”

Instantly, Ludwig tensed.

“What?” Gilbert asked. “What?”

“You,” Ludwig started and shook his head. “You wouldn't leave, would you?”

Gilbert frowned at him. “Where would I go?”

“The Russian sector—”

“Considering who I live with, if that was an option, don't you think I would already be there?” Gilbert asked. “Fuck, you don't understand what I believe in at all do you? You think the Communists are any better? Sure at least they're not the _Nazi_ party but they believe in almost as much control and oppression. It's not like some time's Ivan's accent doesn't almost make it hard to breath I've had enough of Russians to last a life time—or ten.”

Ludwig let out a breath Gilbert hadn't realized he'd been holding. “Good,” he managed and Gilbert pressed closer into his chest.

“Damn,” Gilbert muttered. “You make me such a sap. No I'm not leaving you, no you don't have to get married, yes we'll work this out, please just kiss me before it gets worse.”

“That I can do,” Ludwig rumbled and tipped his head down.

-0-

Several months later found Ludwig coming up behind Gilbert and wrapping his arms around his waist. Still unused to casual affection coming from behind him, Gilbert jumped.

“I almost destroyed this whole page,” Gilbert said and Ludwig nuzzled into his neck.

“I was thinking,” he said.

Gilbert hummed, tipping his head back. “Yeah?”

“About finding a new apartment,” Ludwig said.

“Didn't we say that would be a bad idea?” Gilbert asked. “You know, explaining how we met, why we live together. Besides, where would I put Ivan?”

“I think we can figure something out,” Ludwig said. “There's finally more and more being rebuilt. We could find another place.”

“Our finances don't mesh,” Gilbert said.

“Do you really not want to or is it easier to make excuses?”

Gilbert sighed and laughed at the same time. “It's easier to make excuses.” He tilted his head back, meeting Ludwig's eyes.

“How's the journal going?” Ludwig asked after a beat.

“It will get published,” Gilbert sighed and Ludwig kissed his temple. He smoothed a hand through Gilbert's rough white hair and smiled when he made a discontent sound. “Moving in together isn't going to make this easier.”

“It will in some ways,” Ludwig said.

Gilbert turned around in the seat, almost knocking the type writer he was working on off the desk and Ludwig caught him and pulled him up into a kiss, his hands braced against his spine.

“We won't have to sneak out at three am,” Ludwig murmured and Gilbert snickered.

“Your boss is going to be mad.”

Ludwig hummed. “He can be.”

“At least we can't get married,” Gilbert sighed. “I'm just not sure I would be able to handle such an institution.”

“I promise even if by some miracle it did become possible, I wouldn't ask you to marry me,” Ludwig said and Gilbert choked on one of his hissing laughs, pulling Ludwig to him again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me two years to finish. I'm discontent but hopefully no one else is.


End file.
